Marionette
by Indigo Scrawl
Summary: When recently committed Elaine Finch gets tossed into a world of madness where only the mind grants power; a world of masks and fear, she soon learns to cut her strings. Added to the poison is a Scarecrow with a taste for terror, and soon you have a puppet with no puppeteer. (Crane/OC)
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**: Taking Over

_I believe in you,_

_I'll give up everything just to find you,_

_I have to be with you, to live, to breath,_

_You're taking over me- Taking Over Me, Evanescence_

* * *

Elaine Finch sat placidly in the small tea shop called The Orchid, eyes cast down on the cream colored table cloth. The mid day light streaming from the window sparkled off the crystal glass of water, casting a rainbow of color across her face. Her slim fingers smoothed down the crisp linen of her skirt nervously, fiddling slightly with the delicate embroidery that climbed up the side. She seemed serene, but every so often her hazel eyes would dart about anxiously as though she was looking for something.

In fact, the young woman was waiting for her fiancé, Bryan Strong. The thought of the tall, broad shouldered man sent a nervous smile skittering across her face. Compared to her he was a rock, with large rough hands that made her belly tingle as they brushed her shoulders. His sharp green eyes that crinkled around the edges when he smiled made her feel like she was on cloud nine. The ways his voiced brushed her ear, the way he would wrap her hands in his was a constant reminder of how in love she was.

Bryan was a corporate executive, but she always imagined that in a previous life he was a pirate. Perhaps it was silly. When she had told him, as they lay together in his huge bed one morning, he had chuckled with that delicious voice, and told her not to be ridiculous. Of course, when he started to trail a line of feathery kisses down her arm, she forgot all about it.

That's the way she always was around Bryan. Everything else seemed absolutely insignificant. She felt like she could stay in his arms forever, and never worry about anything. Her mother insisted that it was unhealthy, to the point of being obsessive, but Elaine didn't care. She was absolutely, irrevocably in love with him.

She glanced up again, searching for his face. She would be able to spot it anywhere.

He wasn't there yet, and her heart sunk. Where was he? He had told her he would meet her at the Orchid fifteen minutes ago. Instead of looking like an anxious dog waiting for it's master, Elaine glanced around the prestigious tea shop.

It wasn't particularly busy, but there were several groups of people filling up the tables. There were two couples, an elderly gentlemen and a young lady who was probably his granddaughter, a few businessmen, and a trio of woman chatting together happily. Elaine turned her attention back to her table, not thinking about them any further.

Elaine Finch came from a quietly successful family. Her father, Marcus Finch, worked at a law firm, and her mother worked as a fashion designer. They lived comfortably in a large house by the coast. Both of them couldn't understand why Elaine had insisted on going to university in Gotham of all places, but were delighted when they found out she was dating the wealthy Bryan Strong. A year later after she had graduated, she informed them that she was to marry him. Delight faded to anxiety when they realized just how infatuated she was. Her father did not say anything about it, though Elaine knew he disapproved of her dependency on her future husband. Elaine's mother however, made it blatantly obvious.

It made Elaine furious. Bryan was well to do, gentlemanly, and treated her like a queen. Her parents should love him, and be glad for her. They had even gone so far as to suggest she was blinded, and that Bryan wasn't as perfect as she thought, which was ridiculous.

Suddenly the bell over the door tinkled, causing the young woman to glance up sharply.

There he was, eyes scanning the crowd. He was dressed sharply in a charcoal grey suit that turned his eyes to green fire. Any woman would have been attracted to him, and Elaine was no exception to this.

She beamed at him, and rose her hand to wave him over.

The tall man saw her and smiled. He wove his way through the tables, and sat down across from her.

She wanted to giggle. Here was a man built like a roman soldier, sitting at a tiny table, with a tea cup so frail in his big hands he could probably break it if he held on any tighter. As it was he had to cradle it like a new born kitten.

Seeing her amused smile, he rose his eyebrows curiously. "What is so funny?" he wanted to know, voice rumbling in his throat like an avalanche.

Elaine smiled easily at him, a reached out to brush a chestnut lock out of his eyes. "Nothing love, I'm just glad to see you." It was probably the truest thing she had ever said. The way her heart fluttered in her chest, and her mouth went dry went beyond gladness to sheer joy.

Bryan smirked, and glanced around, eyes drifting over the crowd of people thoughtfully.

"How was work?" Elaine asked, attempting to get his attention again.

"Fine," he replied, as he watched the table of women.

Elaine followed his gaze, and watched irritably as a blonde woman laughed a tinkly laugh and glanced at Bryan. She was beautiful, with thick blonde hair and golden skin, and the body of a model. Elaine tensed as the woman glanced towards their table again, hating the fact that every time Bryan and she went out in public woman would stare at him like wolves to a steak.

She glanced at her fiancé to see him sipping his tea experimentally. Apparently he wasn't paying attention to the blonde, which helped Elaine relax slightly. He made a face and set his tea down. Once he noticed that she was watching him, he shrugged. "I'm afraid I will have to stick to coffee. Tea just doesn't cut it for me."

Elaine nodded, and took a sip from her own cup. "Bryan, I was wondering if you knew any good catering companies I could call for the wedding. I haven't any idea which are the ones to avoid."

"I still think that you should get a wedding planner to organize this. It would be much easier, and you wouldn't have to do so much." He groused, picking at a napkin.

Elaine shook her head. "I feel more confident about doing this my way. Besides, wedding planners over charge."

The business man shrugged. "Fine. I'll look into caterers later alright?"

"Thank you Bryan," Elaine replied sincerely, reaching out to hold his hand, her eye catching on her engagement ring. It was a band of gold, inlaid with two rubies on either side of a glittering diamond. She would have been happy if he had given her a plastic ring from a McDonalds if it meant spending the rest of her life with him.

He nodded at her impassively, before sliding his hands out of hers and standing up. "Of course," he said, "I'll be right back." with that he headed towards the washroom, brushing past the table with the blond.

Elaine settled into her seat, and sipped at her tea again, eyes unfocused, as she thought about the future.

She glanced over as giggles erupted from the table with the group of woman. The blond stood up and sauntered away, no doubt to go fix her make up in a vain attempt to get Bryan to notice her. Elaine eyed her suspiciously, tempted to get up and follow.

Then she realized how ridiculous that would be, and tried to ignore the tight feeling in her stomach.

She turned her attention back to the table. She could hear the quiet murmur of a television in the distance, prattling about the usual crimes no one would ever be charged for.

Gotham was supposed to be rising out of the recession that occurred many years ago, when Elaine had still been but a child. Times had been rough back then, and so many of the civilians had turned to criminal activities to keep some sort of income that even when the recession ended lawlessness had become a disease, a parasite that could not be destroyed. Even now there was no controlling it, not with the mob having weaseled its way into every level of the city.

Sometimes Elaine wondered if the city of Gotham would ever be free. Somehow she doubted it. There was something deep inside her that told her Gotham was going to be a city of constant shadow. She didn't know why she felt that way, but she did. No matter the reasoning, Elaine had a suspicion that they were only on the tip of the iceberg yet; the edge of the storm.

Elaine held back a frown and tried to switch her thought to something more pleasant, like the wedding. She hated when she dwelled on dark things because she always ended up in a foul mood. Back when she was just a teenager if she sat idle for too long her mind would drift into a swampy mire of depressing thoughts. She had grown out of it for the most part, but she still feared that if she got too deep it would pull her down into the depths like a sea serpent.

Bryan came and sat down, and they spent the rest of their lunch conversing easily about their up coming wedding, though Elaine found it hard to concentrate with the idiot blonde laughing abrasively every few minutes. She got paranoid every time Bryan glanced away from her incase he was looking at the gorgeous woman.

Eventually Bryan stood up and kissed the top of her head. "I had better get back to the office then, Elaine, see you this evening," he breathed against her wavy brown hair.

She nodded at him, and watched with a silly grin on her face as he headed out of the shop. He was hers, and she wouldn't give ever give him up. She would have to be dead before she ever left him.

The young woman knew she was smiling insanely, and attempted to cover it up by taking a sip of her tea. Soon she would be Mrs. Elaine Strong. At the moment it seemed like forever until her wedding, but if she immersed herself into the planning, time would fly.

Elaine settled her tea cup down on the table, and cast a satisfied glance around the room. When her eyes came back to her own table, she spotted Bryan's pocketbook lying on the floor by his chair. It must have fallen out of his pocket, she decided.

Standing up, she slung her own purse over her shoulder, and reached down to pick up the expensive leather wallet. Sure enough, inside was Bryan's cards, drivers license, and a picture of the two of them sitting in a fancy restaurant. Elaine gazed at it, feeling woefully pathetic compared to him. Still, he had to be with her for some reason.

The trio of woman stood, and headed to the counter, brushing passed Elaine without a second thought. The brunette was left in a cloud of sweet perfume, watching unhappily after the blonde woman. Elaine wished that she could be that beautiful. If she was, maybe she wouldn't feel so un-classy when she stood next to Bryan. Unfortunately she was as plain as the bird that was her namesake.

After a moment of dismal wishing, Elaine straightened and headed over to the counter to pay for the tea. She realized that Bryan hadn't even offered to pay, but chose to ignore it. He was a very busy man, and she could not expect him to think of everything.

Smiling politely at the bored looking man behind the cash register, she quickly handed over her debit card, before exiting the lovely little tea shop. With a look that said she was content with the world, she hailed a taxi and directed it towards her fiancé's office. She did not want him to be with out any of his necessary cards.

The drive was short and sweet, and before very long Elaine was pulling up next to a tall glass skyscraper. It was a fairly normal looking building, all sleek steel and glass. There was no defining feature about the square monument, nothing that set it apart from the other looming buildings surrounding it. The only thing that identified it at all were the words Knorr Incorporated. It was owned by another family of old wealth. The father had retired and spent most if his time on his yacht in the Caribbean with his wife. Their son was another trust fund baby, who had no interest in business. Thus, he left the running of the wealthy company to Bryan and a board of other corporate executives.

Elaine slid out of the taxi and paid the cab driver, before spinning and heading towards the tall building. She felt nervous, as she was wondering how Bryan's coworkers would take his fiancé showing up. Their disapproval was something she did not want to reach Bryan's ears.

However, they may not pay any attention to her what so ever.

The foyer to Knorr Incorporated was sparse and very modern looking. It had sleek black stone flooring, and steal walls. All the furniture was white leather and a matching steel. Everything was very clean, and very well designed in a painful, emotionless way. There were no plants to make the atmosphere any friendlier, and the modern art hanging on the walls was more anguished than pretty.

Elaine could see the appeal. It all seemed very efficient and professional, and she understood that some people might find the whole ensemble refreshing, but she felt that it was imposing and cold. Perhaps that had been the intention, though she thought it would be very miserable to work in such an unfeeling environment.

Certainly, the receptionist sitting behind the steel desk looked very miserable. She had a perfect smile stretched across her face, but there was a tightness about it that screamed 'I'm only smiling because its my job to appear helpful'. Her hair was perfectly tugged back into a tight French braid, and her cloths were ironed to the point of seeming stiffer than the metal desk the woman sat behind. Everything about the secretary was primped and edited to perfection, and it looked agonizing.

Elaine leaned against the desk and smiled at the woman warmly. "Excuse me, my name is Elaine Finch. I was just to lunch with Bryan Strong, and he forgot his wallet. Is there any way I could return it to him?" As if to prove what she meant she withdrew the wallet, and placed it on the top of the desk.

The receptionist looked her over as if trying to determine whether or not she was lying. After several tense seconds, she wordlessly leaned over and grabbed the phone. "Miss Hill," she said, "Mr. Strong's fiancé is here to return his wallet. May I send her up?" After a short moment the receptionist put the phone back and nodded at Elaine. "Go ahead, his office is on the twelfth floor, second on he right."

Elaine smiled again. "Thank you." She turned, and slid the pocket book back in her purse, before crossing the lobby to the elevators.

When she stepped into her fiancé's office, the first thing she noticed was how quiet everything was. Perhaps it was the thick carpet adorning the floor, or the people who built it had made the walls extra thick, because Elaine had the oddest sensation that she was under water.

She glanced around anxiously, before her eyes fell on the secretary strategically located not to far from the doors that must have lead to Bryan's own private office. Briefly she was reminded of some sort of fort, and this series of secretaries were the different lines if defense. She had no doubt that the analogy was probably fairly accurate, because technically secretaries were meant as a sort of protection.

This one seemed more cheerful than the one in the main lobby. She looked like a bubbly person, and by the way she was typing with the speed of lightening, Elaine got the feeling that she was a bundle of energy. When the young woman noticed Elaine standing there, she sent her a brilliant smile.

"Go right in," the young woman exclaimed. "Mr. Strong isn't very busy. I cannot imagine that he has anything he would rather do than see his soon to be wife!" She gushed.

Elaine smiled at the secretary happily, before striding purposefully towards the doors. She reached out and twisted the knob, feeling the young woman's eager gaze. She swung open the door to her love's office, and immediately felt her heart stop.

There was the blonde from the tea shop, straddling her Bryan. Her tights and shoes had been discarded, and her skirt was shoved up around her waist, Bryan's hands gripping her hips tightly. Her blouse was unbuttoned, revealing her chest, which Bryan currently had his face buried in. The disgusting woman was eliciting a strange purring noise, that Bryan matched with with deep moans if his own.

One part of Elaine heard the surprised gasp from the secretary, but most of her attention was focused on the man she was supposed to marry, and the slut he was with. She felt like her world had just exploded. Still reeling from the shock, she could not help but stare at them in horrified silence. There was no way this could possibly be true, that her Bryan was...was... It simply had to be a nightmare.

The aching pain that was building in her chest told her that this was not true however. Slowly it sunk in that the man she loved more than anything else in the whole world, the man she would have given her life to, was cheating on her. He was cheating on her with some blonde stranger, in his office, after he had just had lunch with Elaine.

A loud roaring sound filled her ears, muting out the passionate noises of the two people sitting obliviously in front of her. Elaine's vision blurred, and her head spun, almost as if she were having a blood rush. She could feel the adrenalin pounding through her veins with a painful intensity, and the hot sting at the back of her eyes told her she was crying. Her brain went completely blank, and yet somehow she was screaming a thousand half formed questions in her mind. The entire world felt like it had just flipped around, and tossed Elaine into another reality, a completely different dimension.

The part of her that had heard the secretary's gasp, and was still somewhat comprehensive told her that this wasn't true. The world had not changed, and it still spun on just as always. It told her that everyone else was going on about their lives, just like normal, but she wasn't listening. The only thing she was paying attention to, was the ringing in her ears, and the couple before her.

She must have made a noise, because Bryan glanced over at her, eyes blurry with lust. It took a moment, but slowly he seemed to realize what was going on because suddenly he became very, very pale. He stopped moving, which caused the blonde to glance up. She followed his gaze towards the door, where Elaine still stood.

Elaine met her eyes, and just like that whatever control she had on herself vanished like a puff of smoke.

* * *

_**Author's Note:**__ This is my Jonathan Crane Fanfiction, and so far I am pretty pleased with it. However, that does not mean you do not have to review. In fact, I would very much like some. Hint hint. I would love to hear what you think, and shall be watching eagerly. Also, I do not claim any rights of the Batman Universe. Sadly._


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

_Cause I'm Broken when I'm lonesome_

_And I don't feel right when you're gone- Broken, Seether & Evanescence  
_

* * *

Dr. Fredrick Rosing was a middle aged man. He looked as though he should be at home reading a newspaper or playing with a child. The psychiatrist was fairly tall, with graying brown hair. His blue eyes sparkled from behind a pair of wire framed spectacles, and the lines around his eyes and mouth indicated that he often smiled. He did not look like he should be walking down the gloomy halls of The Elizabeth Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane. Despite his homely appearance, he was, in fact, doing just that.

The psychiatrist walked briskly down the dreary corridors, paying no mind to the flickering fluorescent lights, or the glaring white walls. Having worked at Arkham Asylum for twenty years, he was used to the dismal atmosphere. At first it had bothered him, it had made him feel depressed, but now he gave it no more thought than one would to the concrete of a sidewalk. Now he focused on his job, and ignored its environment.

It was the only way for him to reserve his sanity.

At the moment, he was on his way to a session with one of his newer patients. Patient #392 had only been at Arkham for a month, and he only had sessions with them once a week. As a result, he had only seen them four times, and the patient was still mostly unresponsive. They were of the firm belief that there was nothing wrong with them, as most people suffering from mental problems were. Unfortunately, the first step to overcoming the problem was acceptance.

Dr. Rosing nodded to the guard standing by the door to the room where he would be having the session with #392. In response the guard stepped aside, and allowed the psychiatrist to pass into the small, cell like room.

It was square, and painted the same stark white color as the hallways outside. It had a simple plastic table bolted to the floor, and two chairs that were also attached to the cement ground. Overhead another grungy fluorescent light hummed, illuminating the woman slouched in the chair on the opposite side of the table.

The two months since Elaine Finch had killed a woman had not been kind to her. She looked gaunt and haggard. It was apparent she had not been eating or sleeping properly. Her cheeks were hollow, and there were heavy bags under her blood shot eyes. The effect was pitiful, and Dr. Rosing almost felt sorry for the pathetic looking female.

It had been a massive scandal when Elaine Finch had strangled a German model named Coraline Howard. Not only was an engaged business man revealed to be betraying his young fiancé, but she went insane. During the four weeks before her trial, it was all over the news. Every socialite in Gotham knew about it, and for a while people talked about it more than the return of Bruce Wayne. Even now, eight weeks after it occurred, people would occasionally bring up the Finch Case.

"Miss Finch," Dr. Rosing greeted, as he took his seat.

She glanced up at him, her mouth opening slightly. After a moment, she cleared her throat and responded. "Dr. Rosing." Her voice was rough with disuse, and maintained a hushed, whispered quality. Dr. Rosing had heard from people close to Elaine that she had always been a fairly quiet, calm person. Her parents had spoken to some reporters, claiming they could not believe Elaine would behave in such a way, as she had always been even tempered and polite. It was a mystery how such a woman could lose control so easily, with such drastic results.

However, after she had been assessed by Dr. Crane, who had diagnosed her as obsessive compulsive, it was a little more understandable. From what Dr. Rosing understood of Dr. Crane's explanation, she had been so deeply involved with her fiancé that it had become an obsession. She devoted everything to Bryan Strong, and in her eyes it was the model's fault he had strayed.

Curiously enough, despite the fact that Elaine's lawyer had gotten Dr. Crane to testify for the young woman, after she was transferred to Arkham, the younger psychiatrist had handed her over to Dr. Rosing. His excuse was that Dr. Rosing had more experience and would probably be able to handle the young female in a better fashion. Dr. Rosing had been surprised by this, as Dr. Crane was known for his brilliance, his ambition, and his apathetic nature. However, he did not question the choice any further, for he secretly agreed with the younger man. Dr. Crane was unnerving at best, and Elaine Finch would not do well with such an intimidating presence.

He smiled at his petite patient. Normally she would just nod at him, before returning to a silent inspection of the room or her hands. That she had spoken seemed like a good sign. "How are you feeling today?"

Elaine licked her lips, "tired."

Dr. Rosing nodded, and quickly scribbled this down in his notebook. "Is there any particular reason? Have you been sleeping?" The young brunette remained silent, which was answer enough.

The psychiatrist noticed that the young woman was staring at the plain beige folder he had placed on the table when he had first entered. It was her file, so he decided she was probably curious as to what it said about her. Unfortunately, it was against policy to show a patient their files, something Dr. Rosing didn't completely agree with. It was about them after all, and the patient had a right to know what was being said about them. However, the director of the asylum felt that it would only cause them unnecessary stress if they read it. It was commonly felt that the patient might become volatile when they discovered the observances of their doctors.

He got Elaine's attention before nodding at the folder. "That's just my notes from our previous sessions. Nothing special," he explained.

She glanced at the file, then at him, before nodding slowly.

"So, Miss Finch, do you want to tell me anything?" It was a fairly vague question, but the psychiatrist hoped she would share something with him. Even if it was only small he had hopes that she would learn to open up over time.

She took a breath, as though she were bracing herself. "I-" she stopped. Suddenly the young woman's shoulders sank, and she glanced away. "I have a head ache," she mumbled, bringing her cuffed hands up to hide her face.

Dr. Rosing frowned. He was certain that was not what she was going to say originally, but put that thought aside. "Where?" He asked instead. No doubt she was simply dehydrated, or suffering from the lighting.

She brought her hands around, and indicated the back of her scalp, just above where her neck connected to her skull.

With a frown, the psychiatrist considered this. "How long have you had it?" He wanted to know.

"Two days, on and off," the young woman whispered. She squeezed her eyes shut, and fisted her hands, until her knuckles were white.

"Perhaps it's just a result of exhaustion?" Dr. Rosing suggested. "I'll prescribe you some sleeping pills to see if that will help," he added, making a note of it on the page.

Elaine nodded again. "Dr, Rosing," she said suddenly. "May I ask you a question?"

The man in question looked up, startled. It was unusual for the brunette patient to be so interactive. "Well yes." Dr. Rising agreed.

Elaine smiled gratefully. "I was wondering, if you could tell me," she paused, her head ducking in embarrassment, "that is, if you knew how Bryan is doing?"

This was not at all what the middle aged man had expected. However, considering her level of devotion to the man who had once been her fiancé, Dr. Rosing realized that it wasn't all that strange that she asked about him. After all, she had killed for him.

Now all he had to do was figure out how he should respond.

No doubt telling her that the infamous Bryan Strong had moved on with his life would not be good, but he didn't think it fit to lie to the poor girl. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place, because he knew that telling her Bryan had been seen dating several girls would on send her into depression or a rage. On the other hand, if he lied and told her Bryan had with drawn from society... He could see a lie like that tumbling down like dominoes with only himself for to blame. It wasn't something he could risk.

Instead, he decided to evade. "I'm not sure, the papers mostly focus on the return of Bruce Wayne." This was true. Bruce Wayne was the topic if many discussions, even amongst the staff if Arkham. His seven year disappearance was constantly being wondered about, along with questions of what it meant for Wayne enterprises, which was supposedly going public. He had been back for about three months now, but people did not see much of him.

Elaine studied him, her eyes unblinking. Dr. Rosing got a brief feeling that she was a hawk eyeing a mouse, but then she glanced away, and the feeling passed. It had only been for the briefest of moments, but in those quick seconds Dr. Rosing found himself remembering that while the young woman seemed mostly docile she was still a murderer.

Elaine Finch sighed and nodded. "I see." Her voice was quiet again, and she focused all her attention on a spot on the floor.

"So Ms. Finch," Dr. Rising started, waiting for her to look at him. When she didn't, he cleared his throat and carried on. However, she didn't answer him, and after several more minutes of Dr. Rosing prodding her for a response, he realized that she was not going to cooperate. He sighed, and quickly scribbled down a note about her response to their quick conversation about Bryan Strong before declaring their session over.

"I'll see you next week then, Ms. Finch."

She glanced up at him, and nodded. "It's not like I'm going anywhere," he heard her mutter bitterly as he exited the room, allowing the guard to enter so he could take her back to her cell.

* * *

Elaine Finch watched the retreating back of her psychiatrist dismally. He was a nice man, who kind of reminded her of her father. He had the same gentle but protective nature about him. So far he had been fairly kind to her, but she resented the fact that he kept secrets from her. Then again, she could just be responding negatively to her new environment.

It was a horrid place, all dark and dank. The low ceilings, and the lack of windows made her feel claustrophobic. Everything was the same monotonous grungy white color, although in her wing, the tiling on the floor was checkered. She had spent her first week in the awful asylum counting all the black checkers from the tiny pane of glass set in the door of her cell. It helped distract her from the shame that pooled in her stomach like a sticky acid that burned her from the inside out.

What was so wrong with her that Bryan would betray her? What had she done so wrong? She felt useless, unwanted, and cast away like a broken toy that had lost its attraction. She often reflected that she was like a broken china doll, her delicate porcelain shell cracked and flawed. Sometimes she even felt like some of the pieces were completely missing. She knew of one that was completely shattered beyond the point of no return.

She pushed these self depreciating thoughts aside, as the guard lead her down the corridors. It was that blond woman's fault. All _her_ fault! What she did was wrong, and she knew it! That horrible female had _known _Bryan was taken, but she stuck her sticky claws into him all the same. She had no morals, that stupid slut!

Elaine felt rage bubble up inside her, as it often did when she thought about it. It made her want to strangle that filthy woman all over again. That model had ruined Elaine's life, and even though many people had claimed Elaine had hammered the final nail in her coffin, she felt justified in what she had done. A life for a life.

This did not stop her from missing Bryan though. She missed his warm embrace when she lay on her cold, lumpy cot, she missed their idle conversations when she sat alone in her cell. She missed him so damn much that it made her feel raw and forlorn all over again. She felt the constant tug in her chest every single day. Sometimes she would turn her head, and for a second think that she had seen him. Every time it happened, another knife stabbed into her. All she wanted was to talk to him again, to hear the deep rumble of his laugh. She wanted to know what he was doing, and how he was doing.

That's why she felt upset at Dr. Rosing, despite his fatherly aura. She knew he must have known something about Bryan. The tabloids should have been talking about him, there should have been mention of his business, yet Dr. Rosing knew nothing? She found that very doubtful.

The guard unlocked her cell, and guided her in. He commanded her to stand facing the wall, hands at the back if her head so her could remove her cuffs.

She hated doing that. It made her nervous. The guards were all unnecessarily large and brutish. Someone like the man currently unlocking her hand cuffs could snap her like a twig. Compared to them, that's about what she was too.

During the four weeks leading up to her trial, Elaine had been kept in a woman's penitentiary. The people there, while completely callous, were total gossips. Even the inmates were included in the passing of rumors. One of the things they had spent a great deal of time talking about was how Elaine had managed to kill a taller woman, with a much larger and stronger man there. They wanted to know why Bryan could not stop his fiancé, and how Elaine had overpowered the model.

Quite frankly, Elaine wanted to know that too. Everything was a blur, and all she could remember was the pain. The deep seated ache in her chest had driven her completely past her limits, and now it was the only thing that lingered. It was not guilt ridden memories of a terrified face gone red from the lack of air that haunted her nightmares, but an excruciating agony that blinded her and controlled her like a puppeteer would a puppet.

The result was that when asked how she had managed to latch on and not let go until two Knorr security guards had pried her away, she had no reply.

The bulky man finished taking off her cuffs, and with a derogatory comment grunted under his breath, he left.

Elaine paid no attention to the crude insult, too lost in her own thoughts. She didn't even glance over when her cell door closed with a condemning thud. Instead, she sat on her bed, and gazed listlessly down at her hands which were folded in her lap, framed by the garish vermillion color of her standard issue jumpsuit.

When she had woken up in Arkham Asylum a month ago, she had been confused. Looking back, Elaine figured this was due to the mild sedative they had supplied her with before she had been transferred from the penitentiary, and the fact that she had never before set foot in the infamous asylum. Of course the prison she had spent time in before her trial was similar, but instead if having doors, she had only bars to separate her from the rest of the inmates. Not only that, but it was much cleaner. It had more windows too. Still, the asylum was probably safer, and the doors provided more privacy.

Still, Arkham seemed designed to keep the patients completely cut off from the outside world. Her own cell was about six foot by seven, with a cot shoved up against one side and a toilet bolted down to the floor on the other. At first Elaine had been concerned that there was a camera in her room that would allow people to see her, but Dr. Rosing had explained that she wasn't in the high security wing, so the cameras were only outside her door, not in her cell.

Other than that, there was only a single strip of fluorescent lighting. Nothing else was put in to make the room anymore interesting. The door knob on her side had been removed, and with the exception of the window it almost looked like part of the wall. The tiny square of space sometimes seemed to waver and shift until Elaine felt like she was surrounded by an endless expanse of white. It made her head ache.

The young brunette got up and began to pace around her cell. She missed being able to go for walks, and she missed being able to breathe the fresh air whenever she wanted. In Arkham everything smelt stale, and had the bitter tinge of chemicals and medicine. She often found herself breathing deeply because she felt like she was suffocating. She had a sneaking suspicion that she was going to quickly develop a fear of being smothered.

With a sigh the young woman walked over and peered at the hallway outside her cell. Her fingers idly plucked at a loose thread on the cuff of her uniform.

When she had woken up this morning, she had been feeling somehow... Lighter. Almost as if the burden of what happened was easing up slightly. After spending a few moments relishing the feeling, she had come to the conclusion that she must have been looking forward to the session with Dr. Rosing.

So far he had been her only source of companionship, with the exception of lunches in the cafeteria. Even that did not really count. There were not very many women in Arkham, so the few that were there were secluded to a single table. Usually they ignored Elaine. After all, they had enough problems with out having to deal with her, and all her drama.

However, her session with Dr. Rosing had proved to be dreary and unhelpful. With the exception of his promise to help her headaches, it had been a failure. She should have expected that bringing up Bryan would dampen her mood.

After several more minutes of gazing gloomily out of the window, Elaine turned and dropped onto her cot. She wanted to go_ home. _Wherever that was. Bryan had only visited her once since that disastrous day, and it was only for him to nervously explain that they were over.

That had killed her. His nervousness, his fear if her had been what had landed the final blow. Did he not know that she would never hurt him? Even after he had broken her heart, she still loved him. How could he not see it? Why did he not understand that he was her everything?

With a pained groan, Elaine massaged the back of her head. The head ache was back in full force. If the never ending dullness surrounding her did not kill her, these head aches surely would. She had lied to Dr. Rosing. They had been going on since even before her trial. At the time she thought they were just normal stress related, but now she wasn't so sure. They came at all times, with no rhyme or reason. Sometimes she would jerk awake as a bolt of white, hot pain stabbed her, other times she would simply be eating breakfast when it would wash over her like a wave and make her lose her appetite. Often they left her weak and quivering, as her eyes slowly readjusted to the light after having been squeezed shut for hours.

That was only occasional though. Most of the time it was just a pulsing throb at the back of her head, that left her somewhat nauseous, but other whys functioning. Still, she hoped the sleeping pills Dr. Rosing had promised would help. At this point she would do anything.

Suddenly she glanced up as the door to her cell swung open with a mechanical purr. Standing there was the guard from before, along with Dr. Rosing, who was smiling at her kindly.

"Good afternoon Elaine. You have a visitor."

* * *

**Author's Note: **Hi again everyone. Sorry this is a little bit late, but school literally went insane at me. As it is I hope you like this latest installment. It's definitely full of angst, and there is virtually no action, but I wanted to catch you all up on everything that happened after Elaine attacked Coraline Howard. I hope it all makes sense to you, but if you have any questions, feel free to ask away. I covered a lot, so it might be hard to keep track of.

Now, to my wonderful reviewers! Thank you four so bloody much! Each of you have my deepest gratitude.

**KoteSkirata: **thank you for the kind compliment, more is here, and hopefully on the way. ;)

**Jes: **I am so glad. Chapters on the way.

**Charlotte: **It isn't rude at all, in fact it makes me very happy to know you want to read more. Also, I'm glad you picked up on Bryan's nature, I wanted to leave a few clues so it would seem more realistic. That you picked up on it, and didn't find it a bad thing makes me glad.

**Starcrier: **Thank you so much! I cannot wait to see what you'll think of where I'm going with this!

For now I shall go, but keep an eye out for the next installment, because that's when a certain blue eyed doctor appears.

Scrawled forever, Indigo.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three: Issues**

_The pain's astonishing_

_Like a brick or a stone_

_Slowly crushing my bones _

_Sending me to my grave-Issues, Escape the Fate_

* * *

Elaine stared across the table at her visitor. Her hands were shaking in her lap, the slim fingers folded around each other to hide the trembling. The nervousness made her stomach twist up, and her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth. Combined with the uncomfortable blankness that filled her mind, she didn't know what to say, or do.

Her companion was equally silent, as they anxiously gazed about the small visiting room. Their disdain at the grungy environment was evident by the way their nose was crinkled up, and the way they perched delicately on the edge of the seat, almost as if it would come alive and eat them.

"I cannot imagine you're getting sufficient amounts of vitamin D," Elaine's mother stated airily.

Elaine cleared her throat and tried to think of something to say to the imposing woman that sat across from her. There was nothing however, no helpful words offered themselves up, no ideas for how to chase away the awkward silence. Instead the young woman simply nodded and mumbled a vague agreement. The strained quiet fell once again, coating both the woman in a smothering blanket of silence. It was so dense it literally made Elaine's ears ring.

The void that now separated the two females became more and more prominent. Despite the fact that Elaine's mother had always been a very dominating force, they had never been close. Sara Finch, her mother was very much the society matron. She attended tea parties and charity balls, not spelling b's and teacher parent conferences. When Elaine was still living at home, her mother had made sure that she would grow up to be an acceptable young woman, but never really spent time with her. The result was that they never really understood each other.

Now, of course, that lack of understanding had grown.

Elaine felt self-conscious around the other older woman. At one point they had appeared to be very similar, with the same brown hair, hazel eyes, and petite frames. Now however, there was an undeniable difference. While Elaine's mother sat in a neat cream colored skirt suit, her hair tidily twisted up at the back of her head, Elaine was clothed in the baggy orange jumpsuit, her hair out-grown and greasy. Besides that, her mother sat tall, chin tilted up confidently. Elaine hadn't the energy for such things, not with her migraine pulsing in the back of her skull. All of this helped to make the brown haired patient feel more uncomfortable.

"How have your...sessions been going?" Was the next question.

Elaine breathed in, scrambling for an answer. She knew she hadn't been the most cooperative when it came to her conversations with Dr. Rosing, but she could not exactly tell that to her mother who was having a hard enough time dealing with the fact that her daughter was in an asylum for the criminally insane. No, her mother definitely would not want to hear about how her daughter was behaving like...well, like a criminal.

"It's- well my psychiatrist is very nice. We've spoken about my headaches."

Sara Finch nodded, seeming somewhat pleased. "And when does he say that you'll be cured?"

Elaine flinched away from the question. Her very first session with Dr. Rosing had mostly been him explaining to her that her _problem_ was not a type of illness, but stemmed simply from the way her brain was wired. She could suppress the symptoms through medication, but it would never go away. The best she could do, if she ever got out of the asylum, was work around her _problem. _

Unfortunately her mother was under the impression the her therapy was like rehab, and when her time was up Elaine would be cured and free from her _problem._

"Dr. Rosing says I will be released when I am deemed fit to be a working citizen of Gotham," she said, avoiding the question entirely. The young brunette had no desire to tell her mother, who craved perfection above all else, that her daughter would be permanently flawed.

Elaine's mother nodded tensely. Ever since the _'incident' , _as it had been deemed, she had been having a hard time acknowledging what happened. Elaine knew that her mother preferred to simply ignore it, as if by doing so the _problem _would somehow go away.

Therefor, it was no surprise when her mother changed the topic.

"My goodness dear, you've missed quite a bit of drama. That Wayne boy returned you know. Well, he isn't really a boy anymore. Such a shame what happened to his parents, and then he was gone for such a long time. Everyone had assumed he had gone off and died." The older woman prattled.

Elaine nodded listlessly, not really caring about the goings on outside of her less than pleasant prison. One would assume that being stuck in an isolated, dreary place would leave her begging for any information of the world beyond her prison bars. Surprisingly enough, it didn't. Elaine could hardly care about the things that went on in a twisted society where everyone was corrupt and greedy for power and money.

She snorted derisively, amused by the idea that people called _her _insane. The whole world seemed pretty crazy to her. Clawing and scrambling to come out on top, with no regard to who was hurt in the process, society was more twisted than a wild vine. Compared to the way some people irrationally behaved, she was as tame as a kitten.

"Elaine?" Her mother questioned, breaking the young woman from her cynical thoughts.

"I apologize," Elaine retorted, ducking her head slightly to avoid her mother's unimpressed gaze.

Her mother hummed thoughtfully, eyes studying her daughter critically. "What was the last time you had a shower?" She asked after a moment.

Fighting the urge to roll her eye like a petulant child, Elaine shot an exasperated look towards her mother. "We get showers every three days, and we only get two jumpsuits." It was disgusting, but there wasn't much of a choice. By the third day Elaine was always grungy, and her prison garb was disgusting. "We wear one until the other gets cleaned," the brunette added.

Sara Finch frowned, "how often is that?"

"Once a week."

"How un-hygienic!" Exclaimed the older woman. "This place is disgusting. It's not healthy at all, and I cannot believe they actually put you in here. No doubt most of the faculty and inmates are men, and have no concern for womanly needs."

"Well it's this or prison for life," Elaine pointed out bitterly. "Besides, this isn't supposed to be a five star hotel. It's a punishment."

"Well we know who to blame for that, don't we?" Her mother snapped accusingly.

The words stung, and Elaine jerked as if physically slapped. She knew everyone blamed her for the death of the skanky model, but hearing it fall from her mothers lips made it all the more real.

"I mean, do you have any thought for people besides yourself?" Her mother demanded, eyes narrowed. "Have you any idea what you've done to your father and I? I can hardly bear to go to social functions for all the whispering. You've stained our families reputation. We should disown you, but you're father will not have it."

Elaine leaned away from her mother, horrified. She could not believe it, she could not. Her mother wanted to abandon her like a used piece of trash. She wanted to shove her very own daughter out of her life as if she never even existed! The young woman could not even think of anything to say. In her shock she found that she had no way to defend herself from the verbal damage being inflicted.

"It's your own silly fault; I warned you didn't I? I told you that man was no good, but you wouldn't listen. It was disgusting how you attached yourself to him." The woman shook her head in abhorrence. "What am I supposed to do with you now?" There was no fondness in those words, just cold antipathy.

Elaine buried her head in her hands, unable to look her mother in the face. Her migraine was back in full force. Combined with the pain from the cruel remarks towards not just herself, but Bryan as well, Elaine felt like someone had bludgeoned her with a metal bat. Her eyes were hot with tears, and her throat constructed painfully. Her muscles quivered with pent up energy, demanding some form of action.

Abruptly Elaine leapt to her feet, incapable of remaining still any longer. Her only thoughts were on escaping, on fleeing from the cutting words. "I think you had better go," she said. Her voice rang through the small room, sounding strange to even her own ears. There was just something off, something wrong about the inflection.

Her mother looked shocked, not used to her meek daughter speaking back.

Ignoring the surprised look, Elaine spun and wrapped sharply on the door behind her. "I'm done," she called to the guard waiting on the other side. She had to get away, get to her cell where she could curl in a ball and wait for the pain of insult and her headache to pass.

The heavy door swung open and the burly guard reached for her arm, shooting a curious look into the room beyond. Still he wasn't supposed to interact with Elaine in any way other than to guide her through the twisted halls of Arkham, so he did not say anything.

Elaine followed the guard away from the room, forcing herself to not look back. She didn't want to give her mother the satisfaction, didn't want to acknowledge the vile woman. She almost wished her parents would cut her off so she would never have to deal with her mother.

The young woman rubbed furtively at her eyes, the glaring light of the hall sending knives of pain through her head. It was just so damn bright, and everything had a strange tint to it. Black spots danced across her vision, in time with the throbbing of the ache in the base of her skull. To her own ears her breathing sounded unnaturally harsh, and the tapping of her footsteps and the guard's echoed through hall like drums.

She barely noticed the guard shooting her a confused glance. "Keep walking," he ordered.

Elaine frowned, wondering why he had to talk so loud and when she had stopped walking in the first place.

_What am I going to do with you? _The words rang through her mind like the tolling of a bell.

Elaine winced and gripped her forehead, driving her fingers into her temples. Why couldn't the pain just _go away?_ Why wouldn't the words stop _repeating? _ She felt like she was standing in the midst of a hurricane and everything was so out of control! She couldn't focus, she could not think! What was going on? Why was the roof spinning like that?

She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to shove everything out of her mind. She wanted to block out the whole world and just rest.

_It's your fault. Your fault. Your fault!_

"Shut up!" She cried, her voice too loud, sending another bolt of pain across her head.

She could hear the guard saying something, the crackle of a radio adding to the calamity. She wished he'd stop being so loud!

"I need a nurse with a sedative in hall 6b!" She heard him claim, quickly followed by the squawk of the infernal device.

_Shutupshutupshutupshutup! SHUT UP! _She called out, not knowing whether the words actually made it passed her lips or not. She clapped her hands over her ears, trying to muffle the noises around her. It didn't help because there was a strange ringing noise that wouldn't go away.

* * *

Dr. Jonathan Crane felt incredibly smug as he walked up the steps of Arkham Asylum. Not only had he successfully gotten yet another of Falcone's hired thugs sent to his asylum, he had managed to thoroughly put that annoying DA's assistant in her place. Besides that, his plans with Ra's al Ghul were continuing quite well. His toxin was the epitome of perfection, and he would soon be getting the respect that he deserved.

Yes, Dr. Crane was quite pleased with himself.

Of course, he was no fool. Just because he had managed to put the Dawes girl off his tracks for the time being did not mean it was a permanent solution. She was annoyingly nosy and far too self righteous by far. Something would have to be done about her, which meant he would be speaking to Falcone in the very near future, despite his reluctance to ask any favors of the crime lord. Carmine Falcone was the type of man who never did anything for free, and having him deal with Dawes would no doubt result in another ridiculous request. No doubt it would be another demand for one of his pathetic goons to get shipped off to the asylum, and while Jonathan Crane didn't mind having extra subjects for his experiment, people were starting to get suspicious. Dawes was a testament to that.

Which is why she had to be dealt with.

Of course, he could always threaten Falcone into doing as he wished. For all the man's big talk, he was just as subjective to fear as any man. If Crane provided enough leverage the mob lord would crumble. Despite his belief that Gotham was 'his' town, Falcone would learn very quickly that he had only as much control as he was allowed. With Ra's al Ghul on the way, that control would slip from his fingers quite quickly.

Feeling satisfied once more, the psychiatrist continued into Arkham.

He strode through the main lobby, ignoring the polite greeting from the secretary. As he walked up the elaborate stairs that were from a time when the asylum had actually been a lavish mansion, he passed a woman about twice his age. She looked like any other society matron, which was highly irregular considering the location. However as they neared each other, he could she that she was visibly shaken. Whatever she had come for obviously had not quite turned out as she expected.

Unbothered with the mundane lives of others, the cold psychiatrist paid her no mind and continued on his way, intending to head to his office. However, just as he passed through one of the many bland halls, he was surprised to see a nurse dart past, eyes wide and sedatives in hand. A walkie talkie clutched tightly in her hand was babbling about how someone had just collapsed and was screaming. Actually, Jonathan Crane could just make out the sound of the cries through the device.

He frowned and followed the nurse down the hall, curious as to what was going on. Of course, people loosing control in an asylum was not such a strange thing, but he was fascinated by fear, and the shrieks he could hear certainly sounded panicked enough. Whoever it was that was making such a commotion certainly seemed to be disturbed and he wanted to know why.

Dr. Crane rounded a corner and was met with the sight of a guard standing on one side of the hall, looking discomfited and staring, shocked, at a patient who was on the floor. The nurse was hastily approaching, needle prepared.

The patient was curled up in a fetal position, her hands clamped over her ears. Her cries had faded to simple whimpers, broken by the occasional demand for silence. When the nurse reached forward to touch her arm however, she flailed widely. With surprising strength for someone so petite the young woman knocked the nurse back, nails raking down her face.

The nurse let out a sharp cry, hand flying up to cradle the scratches on her cheek. The guard suddenly flinched into action and prepared to taser the patient.

Crane rolled his eye at the imbecile warden. Taser's were supposed to be used to subdue a patient on a rampage, not punish the patient when they were curled up on the floor acting as if _they _were the one being attacked. Instead of adding fuel to the fire, the guard should have been helping the nurse hold the patient down so she could be sedated.

"Enough," he commanded, striding forward before the pathetic inmate could be electrocuted.

The guard looked up, confused. "But..." He shot the woman on the floor a look.

He ignored the fool and approached the nurse who was still inspecting the light gashes on her face. "You, let me hold her arm, then you may sedate her." Once he saw the nurse nod he turned away. Useless fools, why the asylum insisted on employing inadequate half wits was beyond him. One would think that such procedures as sedating a patient would be no more than routine for them.

Crane crouched down and reached for the woman wrists, wincing at the annoying whimpers. "Listen to me," he instructed coldly. "I need you to calm down." This was somewhat new to the psychiatrist, who was more used to making people scream and cry in terror. Being on the other side of things and attempting to calm a person was not exactly his cup of tea.

Wrapping his fingers around the woman's arms, he was surprised again by her strength. She seemed to be nothing more than skin and bones, but the minute he touched her she tried to jerk away, and almost succeeded.

Struggling to stay balanced, the young man straightened out the patient's arm. "Relax," he said, sounding anything but comforting. He turned his head to the nurse and nodded. "Hurry up." His patience was running out, and the woman he was holding down was still trying to throw him off.

"Stop it!" She cried out, sounding surprisingly lucid. The nurse faltered, needle inches away, before inserting it in the pale skin. The patient let out a surprised shriek and renewed her efforts at getting Jonathan Crane off her.

Dr. Crane sat back on his heels, watching as the woman curled into a fetal position, her whimpers fading out as the drug took affect. Now that he was no longer trying to keep her from clawing the skin off people's faces, he took the time to study her. Thin, pale, grimy brown hair, she was hardly anything special. He frowned, feeling a sense of recognition.

"It's not my fault." The patient's whisper was barely audible, slurred by sedatives.

Dr. Crane raised an eyebrow, before turning his attention to the warden. "You. What patient is this?"

The warden blinked nervously at the clinical man. "Patient 321, Elaine Finch. Ward C, cell 6."

Elaine Finch. He recalled testifying to her insanity at the request of her parents. Of course it had been fairly apparent she was mentally unstable. Despite the uproar she had created when she had killed someone, it had been widely accepted that she had been completely out of control. He had passed her over to another doctor because he don't want to have to deal with the publicity. Ra's al Ghul needed him to handle things here, and he had no time for society drama.

"Who is her attending psychiatrist?"

"Dr. Rosing, sir."

Dr. Crane nodded thoughtfully. "Fine. Take her back to her cell, the fetch Dr. Rosing." He turned his attention to the nurse. "I want to talk to you in my office." Ineptitude needed to be dealt with. The nurse had been unprofessional and careless.

The ward nodded and picked up the Elaine Finch. "Sir, shouldn't she be taken to the medical wing?"

Jonathan Crane got to his feet and began to straighten out his suit. "Take her to her cell," he snapped icily. Imbeciles, questioning his decisions when they were hardly qualified to be much more than mere thugs. He fought down the urge to smirk as he strode purposefully down the hall, the timid nurse following behind him.

Soon they would cower before him.

* * *

_**Author's Note: that's right, I am still alive. I am so sorry for taking months to get this chapter finished. School has been insane, and my life just went to the zoo. When I did manage to sit down and write for this story, I couldn't figure out how the chapter would go. As an apology I wrote part of this update in Crane's view. Sort of. Anyway, please tell me what you think about how I am doing the characters. I really would hate to screw up Crane because he is so damn brilliant. **_

_**Anyway, hope you liked it, and thanks so much to all the reviews and follows! It means a ton to me.**_

_**P.S: I changed a few things. In the first chapter, originally, Bruce Wayne had already returned, but I've changed that to fit the timeline better. He returned just after Elaine was incarcerated.**_


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